


Lost and Found

by lyndysambora



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyndysambora/pseuds/lyndysambora
Summary: “I think we took a wrong turn somewhere back there.”
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Lost and Found

“I think we took a wrong turn somewhere back there.”

“Oh, you think that, do you?”

Rain crashed in sheets over the windshield, bringing visibility to near-zero as Richie finally pulled to the side of the road and shut the car off. The headlights illuminated ghostly columns only a few feet into the blackness, perforated by the deluge. There were no streetlights to assist in cutting through the dark out here-- wherever _here_ was. After staring at the useless beams for a few more moments, Richie cut power to those, too, and let his head drop back against the head rest. 

“So what do we do now?”

“Fuck if I know, man. You think _you_ can find your way outta here?”

“I wouldn't have gotten lost in the first place.”

“Yeah. So I guess you could have told me when I made the first wrong turn, right?”

“Don't bitch at me, I'm not the one who got us lost.”

Groaning, Richie turned the radio up and tried to block out the sound of Jon. The plan failed spectacularly. 

“What is this shit you listen to, anyway?” Jon asked. 

Richie closed his eyes. “It's called doo-wop. And it's not shit.”

“There's not even any music.”

“You listen to doo-wop for the vocals, dumbfuck. Not the music.”

“_Why?_”

Sighing, Richie said, “You're right, a guy like me has _nothing_ to learn from vocal harmonies.” He rolled his head over to look at Jon, who was merely a silhouette against the faint moonlight filtering through his window. 

Jon shook his head. “Fine. I guess.”

The smooth vocals of The Skyliners filled the air in the car, and Richie said, “Besides, it's just great music.”

“If you say so.”

“You never imagined what it would be like to live back then?”

“In the fifties?”

“Yeah.”

“Let's see... Um... oppressive?” 

“How so?”

Jon laughed. “Man, I kinda like getting laid.”

“You are so boring.”

“_Me?_” Jon said. “I'm boring for liking the eighties and getting laid?”

“Forget it.”

Richie turned back toward his own window and watched the relentless hammering of rain there, wondering if they were going to have to spend the night out here. Lord, he hoped not. Jon was unbearable tonight. 

“No, tell me,” Jon finally said, his voice softer, barely audible over the storm.

“Why? So you can make fun of me?”

“Nah, man. I'm listening now. Okay?”

Richie sighed and ran his fingers under the keys dangling from the ignition. “It's a mood, you know? I like getting laid, too, but you ever wonder what it would be like if the chicks were just a _little_ harder to get to?”

“You mean like back in high school?”

“Shit, no. I mean, like, you had to work to get a kiss. Maybe took a couple of dates to get to that point. And it's a big thing for her to wear your class ring, and you kinda hope it means you'll finally be able to cop a feel at some point without getting hit.”

“This coming from the guy who once did seven chicks in one night?”

“And I suppose you never wanted something you can't have, huh?”

It was Jon's turn to look away, out the window into the total oblivion beyond, as though there was something there worth staring at. Richie waited for an answer, but it never came. 

“Maybe that's what it is,” he said, when he decided Jon wasn't going to speak. “It's just something I can't have.”

The Skyliners segued into the Platters, and Richie brushed his fingers under the keys again, squinting at the rain, trying to determine if it had lightened up one bit. It was going to be a long night. 

When Jon spoke, his words were almost lost in a sudden roll of thunder. “I get it.”

Richie shrugged and laid his head back again. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jon sit forward a bit. 

“You think I don't know what you mean?” he continued.

“I think I wish this damn rain would stop so we could go home.”

“I get it, man. Something you can't have.”

He was turned toward Richie now, and Richie imagined the look on his face was probably intense, though he couldn't see it. Richie scrunched his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah,” he said, wondering why it was suddenly so important to Jon to prove the idea had clicked for him. “Yeah. It kinda puts me in another place, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Cruising and shit, and drive-in movies, and going out and parking out in the middle of nowhere and pretending you're not there to get some.”

Jon laughed a little, softly. 

“There's just no chase anymore, you know?” Richie said. “Can you imagine how fucking awesome it would be to feel up some chick if it took you months to get her to let you?”

“Frustrating.”

“But don't you think it would be just that much more, you know... _worth it?_”

Scoffing, Jon stared out the windshield. “And what if she never let you?”

“Man, of course she's gonna let you. She wants it just as much as you do. She just has to pretend she doesn't so you don't think she's easy.”

“Is that all it is?”

“Yep. The world says she can't let you touch her, but if she wants it bad enough, she's gonna give in sooner or later.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Richie found himself studying the downpour again. It was now a solid sheet against the car's glass, hardly registering as individual drops anymore. A silent flash of lightning rippled through the darkness, momentarily illuminating the trees and the deserted road beside them. The electricity of it rose the hair on Richie's forearms, and he actually jumped at the ensuing clap of thunder. The Platters became The Flamingos.

_my love must be a kind of blind love_

“And how do I know when she wants it bad enough to give in?” Jon asked. 

Richie's eyes flickered in Jon's direction, for just a moment, and he wasn't sure, but it felt like Jon was much closer now, somehow bridging the gap between them without Richie having even noticed. 

_i can't see anyone but you_

Though the blackness around them was near-complete, Richie still closed his eyes, shutting everything out totally, absolutely. 

Except for the feel of Jon's lips on his. 

And then it was over. When Richie opened his eyes, he found that Jon was grinning, the expression only discernible because of the way his cheeks rounded in silhouette. 

The other man pulled himself up, climbed through the gap between the seats, landing in the back bench. Richie followed. 

Lightning flared again, leaving the image of Jon's face burned in negative in Richie's vision when the sky faded back to black. It raised goosebumps on him again, the electricity crawling over his skin. But this time, when the thunder rolled behind it, Richie didn’t jump.

**END**


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